


Bells Have Been Rung

by Diary



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Aunt-Nephew Relationship, Awkwardness, Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Families of Choice, Friendship/Love, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Literal Sleeping Together, POV Multiple, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 07:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11077278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: Repost. AU. "Once you ring the bell, you have to live with what life doles out in response.” Complete.





	Bells Have Been Rung

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

It was quite a remarkable sight on Privet Drive.

Ignoring her husband's quiet bumbling, Mrs Petunia Dursley determinedly went to and from her car with several suitcases and trunks until finally leading her visibly half-asleep nephew out to the car with the cage containing his pet owl in her free hand. After buckling him into the front seat, she managed to squeeze the cage into the cramped backseat, got into the car, and left her slack-jawed husband watching the car steadily disappear into the dark night.

0

Through his confusion, Harry is aware of one fact: Whatever caused his aunt to leave his uncle, it hasn’t changed her opinion of him. If anything, she wants him around even less than she did before.

Whenever he wakes up, she shoves money in his hand, hustles him out the door, and warns him to be back by five. When he returns, she retreats to the chair in the corner of the hotel room and works on sewing until she’s ready to go to bed.

If possible, the room is even cleaner and neater than Number 4 Privet Drive, and she’s taken to handling his things.

First, it was his clothes. She washed, modified via sewing, ironed, and folded every single piece he had. She’d even shined his shoes.

Next, he came back to find Hedwig’s cage had been thoroughly cleaned.

Then, his cauldron was cleaned and polished, his trunk completely ridded of all dust, and his textbooks were arranged in alphabetical order.

He’s been increasingly careful to keep his wand out of her reach.

The room has two beds and a TV. She lets him watch whatever he wants during the night but refuses to let him call Hermione from the phone in the room. When he protested, she told him to either send Hedwig or find a payphone.

Her eyes are perpetually red, but he hasn’t witnessed her crying, yet.

Ron’s spending the summer at Hermione’s house, and over a payphone in a phone booth with a small bench inside Harry managed to find, the three of them talk.

Hermione’s voice is gentle, and he suspects she’s either forgotten or simply doesn’t understand he’s unlikely to get upset on his behalf. “Harry, in cases like this, the cause is usually due to an affair or abuse.”

With his mouthful, Ron adds, “Harry, if it’s the other, I know you’ll probably want to go after-”

“Don’t encourage him, Ronald! And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry deposits more money into the slot. “I’m the last person who’d defend Uncle Vernon, but he’d never hurt her like that. As for an affair- I suppose it’s possible.”

“I could come over,” Hermione offers. “I doubt she’d recognise me, and as long as we don’t tell her I’m a witch, she might talk to me.”

“What about me?”

“Ron, even if she doesn’t recognise you, she’s going to remember that the Weasley family has red hair,” she points out.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea at the moment.”

“Are you still going to want to come after your birthday,” Ron asks.  

“Of course. Whatever’s going on, I don’t think she or the others are in any danger.”

0

Back at the hotel, he finds Aunt Petunia giving Hedwig a bath.

Seemingly unbothered, Hedwig hoots in greeting.

Surprising himself, Harry finds himself speaking up. “Right. Aunt Petunia, what’s going on? You drag me out of bed in the middle of the night, you’ve been crying, you’ve cleaned everything you can get your hands on, and now, you’re giving Hedwig a bath. I’ve been talking to a mate, and she reckons Uncle Vernon cheated. Is that it?”

For a moment, she looks at him, and then, she deliberately goes back to washing Hedwig.

He sighs. “Fine. But none of this changes my plans to leave after my birthday. I’ll be at Hermione Granger’s this year instead of the Weasley’s.”

She nods, and he goes to his bed and turns on the TV.

0

Drifting vaguely into wakefulness, he hears a faint, “Be quiet. You’ll wake-”

“I don’t care about the ruddy boy,” Vernon rumbles, and Harry is abruptly thrust into full consciousness. “I took him in, because, you-”

“Don’t try to use that as a reason,” Aunt Petunia hisses. She’s barely visible, and Harry realises the two are outside the room with the door slightly ajar. “And be quiet, Vernon! People are trying to sleep, and they‘ll talk.”

“Like our neighbours did when you abandoned me and our son?”

“I didn’t abandon Dudley,” she protests. “I made him breakfast and kissed him goodnight. I left him a note. If you didn’t let him read it-”

“Petunia, I made a mistake, I’ll admit, but sometimes, men go-”

“We’ve been married for twenty-two years, Vernon,” she snaps. Immediately lowering her voice back down, she continues, “And during those twenty-two years, I’ve been a loving wife and mother. Don’t give me that nonsense about a midlife crisis. I may not be young and pretty, but I’ve raised our son, kept the house clean, and consistently provided you and Dudley with two-to-three hot meals a day! I’ve always made myself presentable and made sure our son was, too. I’m sorry for my doing everything in my power to make sure you and Dudley were happy and well taken care of made you long for someone more exciting. For over twenty-two years, I’ve put up with Marge for you!”

“Petunia,” he quietly says, “I love you. In addition, you still love me, I know. Please, come home. I know I’ll have to earn your trust back-”

Openly crying now and making Harry uncomfortably think, maybe, he should fight against the almost paralysis and go out, she interrupts, “No. I’m still in love with you as much as I was the first time- but this has opened my eyes. I can’t do this anymore. For Dudley’s sake, I hope you’ll be reasonable and fair about this, but if you won’t, I’ll fight you with everything I have. I can’t give him all that you can, but I’m his mother. He needs me.”

Hedwig decides now is a good time to turn on the TV, and an old rerun blares.

Closing his eyes, he keeps his breathing as steady as possible.

A few seconds later, Aunt Petunia comes in and turns the TV down. Then, to his shock, after she’s done, he feels her adjusting his blankets.

He listens to her leave the room and fully shut the door this time.

She doesn’t come back until sometime after he’s fallen back asleep.

0

In the morning, he tries to resist her efforts to get him out the door. “Aunt Petunia, I think we need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing-”

Feeling the almost paralysing discomfort returning, he manages to agree, “Probably. But-”

Getting him outside, she firmly shuts the door.  

Part of him suspects, if he tries to open it, he’ll find it blocked by something.

0

When he gets back, Hedwig is agitatedly flying around the room and loudly hooting.

“Hedwig! Quiet! You’ll get us kicked out.”

Aunt Petunia had made it clear he was to be extremely careful not to let Hedwig be seen or heard due to the hotel having a no-pets policy.

Flying to the bathroom door and landing on the handle, she hoots loudly.

Walking over, he knocks. “Aunt Petunia?”

Hedwig pecks him.

Hoping this doesn’t get him yelled at, he opens the door.

When he does, the sight causes his heart to clench.

On the floor, his aunt lies with her eyes closed. Quickly, he drops to his knees, reaches out, and feels immense relief when he feels her heart beating under his hand. Jumping up, he runs to the phone.

0

Before anyone arrived, he’d scribbled a note and sent Hedwig to the Grangers.

Now, half-paying attention to some late night show and wishing he’d eaten before coming back to the hotel, he’s sitting in a waiting room.

Once Aunt Petunia had been taken into a room, he’d tried calling Uncle Vernon and Dudley but had gotten the ansaphone.

“Son?”

Harry looks up to see a doctor. “Is she okay?”

Nodding, the doctor sits down and offers his hand. “Doctor Suresh.”

Shaking it, he says, “Harry Potter."

“The separation is going rough on her. Your aunt hasn’t eaten properly in over week, and she’s slightly dehydrated. What happened was she got very sleepy and was somewhat confused due to all the stress. She ended up lying down on the bathroom floor and going to sleep.”

“But she didn’t wake up,” Harry helplessly points out. “Aunt Petunia’s always been a light sleeper.”

“When a person gets to a certain point, it doesn’t matter how light a sleeper they usually are, they’re going to stay asleep until their body is ready to wake up. We’re taking care of her, and she should be ready to go home- I mean, back to the hotel by tomorrow. What about you, son? Are you holding up?”

“Yes, sir,” he answers. “I’ve mostly been catching up on the news and spending time with my mates.”

“What about your uncle and cousin?”

Harry wonders if this means he’s going to have to go back to Privet Drive. He’d prefer Aunt Petunia to them, and with the blood protection, he‘s safer with her, too. “I don’t know, sir. I’ve never been close to them. Aunt Petunia’s my mum’s sister, and she’s the one who agreed to take me in after my parents died.”

“Try to make sure she eats, if you can. Do you want to stay with one of your friends, or would you like to have cot in your aunt’s room?”

0

For the first two days, he stays in the hotel and forces an irritable Aunt Petunia to eat and drink plenty of water. From what he can gather, she’s talked to Uncle Vernon, and Dudley won’t be coming over.

When she goes for walks, he disconnects the phone, teaches Hedwig how to dial 999, and makes sure to emphasise she must only do it if she thinks there’s a real emergency.

On the third day, a solicitor comes, and she firmly shoos him away.

0

On his birthday, she hands him a necklace and begins packing his trunk.

“What’s this?”

“Your birthday present. When your mother was sixteen, our parents gave it to her. You can give it to your wife or daughter someday.”

Sitting down, he studies the necklace. It’s a delicate gold chain with a cross made of rubies and diamonds hanging from it. Thickly, he manages to choke out, “Thank you.”

However, anger rapidly overtakes the overwhelming feelings of warmth and surprise. “Were you ever going to give this to me?’

Finishing packing, she bluntly answers, “No.” 

There really isn’t an answer to that, he realises.

Stopping in front of him, she looks down, and he’s struck by how weary and defeated she looks. “Shortly before she died, there was a quote she directed towards me. ‘One can never un-ring a bell, and so, one should take great care to decide whether they truly want to ring it in the first place.’ I was deliberately literal and pointed out that ringing a bell was a relatively harmless action.”

Shaking her head, her hand twitches. “Sometimes, I wonder if she was a bit psychic. You’re sixteen, and for once, I’m going to do right by you and give you some important advice: Whenever you struggle with decisions, remember that quote, and remember me. Because, it is true. Once you ring the bell, you have to live with what life doles out in response.”

Bitterness coats his words when he tells her, “I’ve watched a boy die because of me. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. “My godfather,” she flinches, “is dead, because, I tried to protect him, which made it where he needed to protect me. I know about consequences, Aunt Petunia.”

Shaking her head, she softly exclaims, “Oh. Oh.”

“My mum wasn’t a seer. I imagine she just loved you, no matter how awful you were to her.”

“She did,” Aunt Petunia agrees. Then, she sighs. “You’re so young.”

There’s a knock on the door.

0

In the guestroom, Harry finds himself talking about Aunt Petunia. “Does any of this make sense?”

“Well, I reckon it does,” Ron answers. “I mean, her husband ran around on her, and it sounds like he might be keeping her son away. She doesn’t even have a flat of her own, and besides that cousin of yours, you’re the only family she actually has left, and after the way she’s treated you, she’s not daft enough to expect you to, well, care that much about her problems.”

Harry stares up at the ceiling in shock.

“Shut up,” Ron good-naturedly says. “I have a bloody huge family. I’m bound to understand some things.”

“I have to let Hermione talk to her, don’t I?”

Nudging Harry’s face with his foot and avoiding Harry’s attempts to swat at his ankles, he answers, “Your call, mate.”

“What if I decide to just not care?”

“I wouldn’t blame you. But we both know the answer to that.”

Harry sighs.

0

“What are you doing back?”

“Aunt Petunia, this Hermione Granger, a friend of mine."

Grabbing her hand, Hermione shakes it. “Hello, Mrs Dursley. Harry’s going to take our friend, Ron, to the theatre. I wonder if you and I could talk?” Managing to slip around her, Hermione adds, “You see, Harry’s worried about you, and I think it might be beneficial...”

Harry walks away, slips his hand into his pocket, and feels the cross against his fingertips.


End file.
